Memorial
by EllieKae
Summary: It's been about a year since Jace accidentally killed his love, Clary Fray. Now, young shadowhunters orphaned by the Mortal War are residing in the New York Institute. On the day of the mass memorial service, one of the promising shadowhunters manages to get Jace out of his self-destructing shell. Oneshot.


Jude closed one eye as she studied the target; her left arm remained relaxed at her side and her right held the piercing dagger straight. She lightly mocked the direction in which she would throw it, seeing how the handle and blade balanced on her fingertips. It felt harmless but deadly, light in weight but heavy in impact. She had never seen a demon herself, but could only imagine that once they saw her plunge a knife into one of their own, they would run away like frightened puppies, howling as they fled.

The girl's hand relaxed at her side before she quickly reared back and flung the knife spiraling through the air. For a second, there was only the sound of air being cut into little waves. The sound was beautiful and rhythmic. There was a sudden thud as the knife buried itself, hilt-deep, into the target. Jude let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. _Bullseye._

 _Clap. Clap. Clap._ The sound startled the girl, as the noise of hands being forced together was not one she was familiar with, and was especially not a sound she expect that day. She thought she was the only one left in the Institute. Everyone else had gone to the memorial service honoring the lives that were lost in the Mortal War. _Thud._ The infamous blonde haired boy appeared in front of her as if he had fallen from the heavens. Jude glanced up and noticed a bottle of whiskey remaining on a wooden beam above her.

"Is this your new hobby? Being a Peeping Tom? Did you get tired of trying to force yourself on younger girls?"

Back when Jude had first moved to the Institute, along with a group of other orphans, there was a rumor that Jace had tried to force himself on a 15 year old girl. Apparently, whenever she freaked out and called for help, he started to cry and eventually vomited on himself. It was the most pathetic story she had ever heard, yet he still got flocks of girls. Worst part of it all, was that she was one of those girls for a long time. Though, she eventually figured out that he would never give her the time of day and soon grew to hate him.

Jace shifted his feet to look taken back, placing a hand over his heart, "Ouch." The boy waited a second before speaking again. "Why aren't you at the memorial service? Didn't your whole family die or something like that?"

Jude narrowed her eyes at him. How insensitive. The girl picked up a dagger from the mat next to her and began her ritual again. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at him. He was still waiting for an answer. Without looking at him, Jude responded, "my mom died a long time ago, my dad was a prick, and I have already done my grieving for my brother."

Jace puckered his lips out and shrugged his shoulders, accepting her answer as a valid one.

"Why aren't you at the memorial? Didn't your girlfriend die in the war?" Jude rested the dagger at her side, and positioned her body more to face him, waiting for his answer.

Jace shook his head, his face stoic, "No."

Jude's face twisted in confusion, "Wait, what? I thought what's-her-name died?"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly but the rest of his face remained relaxed, "Her name was Clary and she did die, but she didn't die in the war."

Jude didn't think she could get any more confused. She thought this was this reason for all of his dramatic escapades, but now it seemed he was just a plain asshole. "Well then, how did she die?" Jude could feel her voice raise a bit, though she didn't mean for it to.

"I killed her." Jace was completely casual.

Jude studied him for a second, before breaking out into a full blown fit of laughter, but once she realized he wasn't laughing with her, her smile disappeared from her face. The girl crossed her arms in front of herself, "Well, shit man. That's messed up."

Jace shrugged as if nothing was wrong but Jude could see the hurt behind his eyes and in the bags below them. "I wasn't right in the head. It was an accident."

Jude tried to stay serious but a little chuckle escaped her throat, "Well I would hope The Clave wouldn't allow a cold-blooded killer on the loose in a place full of teenagers no one would miss."

The corners of his mouth turned up and she saw his back rise with a single chuckle. When his smile faded he took in a sharp breath, "your name is Judith, right?"

Jude gave him a dead stare. She hated her real name. It sounded like she was at least 80 years old. "I go by Jude."

Jace paused for a minute, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. "Well, Judith, you have a hell of a throwing arm." The boy stared at the ground, though his head remained high. "Though, I could do better."

Jude scoffed and turned around, focusing again on her daggers. He was just so god damn rude. "You know, this is why you don't have any fri—" Jude was interrupted by the feeling that he was directly behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and was met by his black cotton t-shirt. He was really close. Even though, he smelled of mostly vomit and stale alcohol, there was a small hint of something intoxicating. Jude was drawn in and looked up into his face. His jawline was hardened as if he was clenching his teeth, his eyebrows looming over his eyes. He appeared frustrated and sorrowful all in one look.

Jude glanced at his lips. They were chapped but plump and full of color. Suddenly, they were moving toward her. She thought about not moving, letting them reach her lips, or perhaps even leaning in a bit to kiss him back. The girl then thought back to the days where she admired him as if he was a pop star, and how he didn't even notice or acknowledge her, and hastily moved away from the path of his lips. When she glanced up she noticed the shock in his eyes, and maybe a little hurt, but she didn't care. He had his chance and she wasn't the kind of girl to let him walk all over her for a second time.

There was an abrupt roar of voices in the hall, outside the training room. The memorial service had apparently let out and all the residents were returning to their rooms. Somebody opened up the training room door and Jude stepped away from the silent Jace. She didn't want to be seen with him. He was pathetic and thought of himself as a God, and everyone knew it. Jude swiftly gathered her daggers and left the training room, leaving Jace standing with his back away from her.


End file.
